When

the fuck are you going to make this right?

The Promise of a Dream

Yes, I dreamt of you again last night.  I admit it's been quite a while since you took top billing in my nocturnal state, but yet, there you were like you had never left.  In my dream you had returned, you knocked on my door, asked to come in, and we talked and talked.  You told me everything that you've ever needed to tell me.  And I listened for a long time.  Then I woke.  And when I woke, it was with such promise, such hope...maybe that's what propelled me to call you this afternoon.  I knew in my gut that you wouldn't answer, but I couldn't shake my dream from my head and my heart.  So in that blindly hopeful way that I often have, I called.  I have to admit, I did have that butterfly-y feeling in my stomach, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you'd pick up.  I don't know why I felt that, but I did.  I guess that's the hope talking.  

I am so many things on any given day.  I am sad, angry, happy, hopeful, confused, hurt.  Sometimes I experience two wildly different emotions within the same breath.  It's fucked up, really.  But then again, your silence is fucked up as well.  

I still cry, though maybe a tad less than early November.  I am still wracked with confusion and pain.  I still miss you, despite whatever and everything. But mostly I am simply sad.  Sad that you value relationships so little that you can do this to someone that you once professed to care so deeply about. Sad that I believed (and despite how fucked up it is, still do) you when you said I could always trust you to catch me, protect me, keep me safe.  So many times I asked you, told you that we could stop "this" and you assured me there was no reason to stop.  Til there was, but still no reason.  

I just fucking miss you, you asshole.  I miss your voice, your smart ass comments.  Your refusal to accept my crazy shit.  I miss your swagger, your slaps on my ass, the ponytail-pulling.  I miss dreaming big dreams, and making lists of toys for each other.  I miss hearing your sexy growl when you cum. I miss the feeling of my pussy, wet from just the thought of you.  I miss all of you, you fucking piece of shit.  And that sucks.

LinkedIn Humor

In a half-hearted attempt to keep my professional wheels spinning forward, I've been trying to better maintain my LinkedIn profile.  Update it here and there, add a new photo even maybe.  Or...holy crap...even update my skills.  I know, the horror, right? I have no idea if it really matters, but it's keeping me busy on some minute level. If my brain is occupied, then my heart is not.  Which equates to less hurt, less heartache, less frequent outbursts of tears.  And I'm tired of crying and hurting and generally feeling like ass, so it has to help.  

But each and every fucking time I log in to LinkedIn, the first thing it asks me is if I know O.  And that perhaps I should "connect" with him.  Ha. Sure, I'd love to connect with him.  I'd love to ask him how he's doing, what he's been up to since we last "connected." Is he happy, sad, upset, thrilled with life?  Yes, all those questions and so many more. But I can't.  Or more accurately, he can't. 

 LinkedIn has a very dark and fucked up sense of humor, clearly. Do I "know" O?  Sure I do.  We've worked, played, argued, imagined, hoped and dreamed together.  But do I really know O?  No fucking clue.

I know I can hit the little "x" button and clear his name from the top of the suggestion list of people to connect with.  And each time, my finger hovers over it for a half second.  I know that maybe I should.  But I can't and I don't.  For a thousand reasons I don't.  

I guess I don't because I still hope.  Still hope that one day I will connect with O.  That he can share with me all the fucked up shit that went down.  The reasons why he just bolted from my life.  The good and the bad, all of it, every last fucking little bit.  I do still hope, every day.

So thanks LinkedIn, for your totally dark sense of humor, as I wipe away the tears and smile through the pain.

information

What do I do with this information?  How do I proceed?  Or do I just need to let it all go and be free of whatever this is?

But honestly, it feels like someone ripped off the scab of a decade old scar and now it won't stop bleeding.

And I hurt.  Have I mentioned that?  Yeah, pretty sure I have, but nothing's changed in the past 12 hours, so yup, still hurting.  Ugh, so sucky.

I thought about going to the gym, but after not really eating a whole bunch recently, I'm feeling pretty weak, so I just took a long walk around a local pond, it IS a beautiful day out there and part of me at least can still see that measure of beauty, so that's good, right?

Ok, back to the information at hand.  I think part of me just needs to put this all down somewhere, so that I have it out of my head and onto the page.  I'm thinking that will help me process, so here goes. But if you are reading this, remember, this post is for me, not you.  So my apologies in advance for any blabber and general lack of storyline.

About a year and a half ago, a man came back into my life.  I had known him before, as a colleague and kinda a friend, but that was about it.  He was going through some stuff in his life with his health and his relationships, so I just tried to be a supportive person that was there.  He left about 2 years into his working with us for health reasons (or so I have believed).  When he returned, about a year later, he seemed different, but nonetheless still the same, generally happy and always smart-assy person that I knew before.  Let's just call him "O" to make the story easier.

As O and I continued to work together again, there was a spark and an interest and conversation about life and sex and many other things.  But basically, the gist that I got was that he was no longer with his ex, he had moved out and was living on his own, and still had the dog.  I'm not one to pry all the time, so I just let him tell me what he needed to in his own time.  Part of this uncovered his desire for a D/s relationship on top of a "normal" relationship.  Through much flirting and conversing, we at least recognized a desire to explore this with each other.  But work.  Yup work was in the way.  So we did our best to keep our hands off each other, but yeah, we all know how that goes.  And soon enough we were talking dirty, acting filthy and generally making each other feel pretty fucking good.  And while we were still acknowledging that "this" was a bad idea while working together, we did manage to grow close.  I let him in, I felt safe enough to trust him, and he seemed like he was starting to trust me (which is an admittedly hard thing for him to do). Everything seemed good.
And then about 7 months ago, he just pulled away.  Like gone.  Nothing.  I pushed back, confused and stunned and he just told me he needed some space. So he got it.
I don't really know for how long, but the space he asked for seemed to do the trick.  He re-engaged, and things started to get pretty interesting in all those lovely ways.  We talked of a future, we talked of joining forces in our profession, we talked and talked.
But let me be clear here, with O I knew I was taking a risk.  He is 7 years younger than me, and has had some shit in his life.  I knew he had trust issues, but I was willing to open myself up, willing to hope, willing to trust him to never, ever hurt me like I have been hurt in the past.  I had even gone so far as to frequently remind him that if he wasn't in "this" for the long haul, then we should just stop right now. O assured me at every turn that as long as I was patient, all will be well. He promised me that he would always take care of me. And I believed him.
From here, I will cut to the chase. O gives notice at work, a fairly lengthy notice, but that was the right thing to do.  So based on emails and conversations with O, my thought was that once he was no longer working there, we would be free to explore a deeper relationship.  One with shared experiences, with openness and love.
So he leaves.  And I have not seen him in 5 1/2 weeks.  Yes, we've talked.  It's been pretty bumpy at times.  And I had even suggested that maybe I just need to let him go.  But until this past Sunday, we've been able to work through whatever we are feeling (or really, whatever I am feeling). He did tell me that he just had a lot going on, was feeling pulled in a 100 different directions, and that while there would come a "time for us," now was not that time.   Ok. Fine. Got it.  Don't like it, but I've got it.
Sunday rolls around, and I'm on FB getting ready to message my aunt about borrowing her condo, when I see a name on her friends page that seems familiar to me.  Out of curiosity I click on that friend.  And lo and behold, I find this friend holding an tiny baby in her arms.  And then it clicks.  This friend is the mother of O's ex. And like in some really bad slow-motion scene of a shitty movie, I scroll down the comments to read all the congratulations for O and his ex.  I see all the glowing well wishes for the happy family. And I start to shake.
I have no idea what I am looking at, but I know it's not making any sense in my head.  Until I start doing the math.  I text O.  I tell him I've just stumbled across this very confusing thing and need some help understanding.  He asks me if it can wait.  No, it can't wait.  I need a yes or a no answer to 2 questions:
Are you back with your ex?
and
Are you a new father?
His reply, was as follows: ha, not quite let's talk about it tomorrow.
Um......not quite??? What the fuck?

It's now Wednesday, I've asked him to call me.  I've told him I'm not mad, just need some help in understanding. And I haven't heard a word.  Sometimes silence says more than words ever can.

I won't call him again.  The ball is now in his court. I'm sad and confused and hurt.  But I'm not angry.  Because all I have ever wanted for him is joy.  And maybe now he has it.  I just wish I did too.

the tears won't stop

I know one day the tears will stop.  I will stop crying.  The hurt will subside.

I may never forget, but time and distance will make it all easier to bear. 

But right now, this fucking sucks.


I just want to stop hurting.  I want my heart to feel whole again and not ripped to shreds.  I want to know that it is ok to love, to trust, to hope.  But nothing feels right at this moment. 

What do I do with this information?  I know you can help me to at least understand, but for some reason you won't. And that just turns this fucked up equation into nonsense. Total fucking nonsense.

love overwhelming

I want a love overwhelming.

A love that is immense, intense and full.

Ripe, bursting with color and flavor

A love that consumes both loved and lover.

Intense, frightening in it's fervor

A love that fills me and strips me bare.

A love like no other.

Heard this clearly today...

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. 

Wild Geese
a poem by Mary Oliver

this fucking sucks

ugh

i fucking hate this

the tears won't stop, the doubt won't quit, i'm a mess about 97% of the day

i know i had to do it, i had to say what i needed to say, but it doesn't make me feel any better

in fact, i probably feel worse than i did before

so that's awesome

i know you never made me any promises, and that anything that i might have believed to be such was just my own over-active imagination at work, but still...

so much of what we said to each other helped me to believe, i had hope for us, i thought that there might have been a future

now i have no clue

i said it before, and i don't think i really knew what it meant until now...

i'm lost

I forgot a few items

Oh, yeah, and there's a few other things that I forgot to mention...

First, there are maybe 5 people that I talk to about you.  Here they are and what I say to them:

My Mom: I don't say anything really, but she wants to know when you can come for Thanksgiving dinner.  Or any dinner really...

I: She's my best friend.  I tell her many things.  And she loves me and she knows that I love you.  I also know that she wants to see me happy and she is the best voice of reason that I have that helps me to know when something is not making me happy.

M:  She loves me too and wants me to be happy.  Also, she IS  the person who took the pics of my tits when we were in S.C. so that I could send them to you.

You:  Well, you know what I say to you.

I don't talk to anyone else about what we are or are not.  I haven't called K or anyone that I might be able to reach out to regarding you and your life. As we both know, there are ways to get in touch with people that maybe we should never speak to.  I have never, nor do I ever plan on doing that.   One day, I hope you will share larger swaths of your life with me, but until then...

Secondly, when I do let you go and we have that conversation, I will be deleting my Fl profile.  That was meant for you and me and us alone.  I don't want to explore that with anyone else, especially online.  So if you want to talk to me, you'll have to actually call or text me on my phone.  Or my "real" email.

Finally, as I'm sure you can imagine, I am going to go through all the classic stages of grief.  First I will be sad, confused, and yes, I'm going to cry a lot.  A Lot.  My eyes are going to feel permanently puffy and yes, I'm going to look like shit for a few weeks.  Oh well, people will deal.  Next will most likely be denial or anger or both, simultaneously.  That's gonna be awesome.  I will try my hardest to not call or text you all the nasty and hurtful thoughts that are sure to come to the surface.  You know, things like how I was nothing but a piece of distracting ass to you.  How you really never cared about me and how all you were ever looking for was someone to indulge you in your fantasies.  And then, in the end, it will be the long, slow, construction of the wall around my heart. 

None if this feels good.  None of this feels right.  I don't want to let you go.  It's feels like the girl who finds a wild animal baby and takes care of it, helps it to grow and become strong and then in order for that animal to fully thrive, she has to shove it away.  She has to break her own heart in the process.  She has to practically push them with her own hands out of her life.  She loves this animal, so much so that she will purposefully tear her own heart and soul to pieces so that it can have what it needs.

This is how I feel

The Architecture of My Heart

So I guess I've decided to let you go.  I don't want to, it hurts to let you go.  But it hurts more to hold on to you.  And that fucking sucks. 

Here is what I will say to you if you ever decide to take my call...

Sit down and shut the fuck up.  If you don't think you can, then go find a sock and stuff it in your mouth, bite down hard every time you want to say something.  Because you have to listen to me.  And I don't want to hear a fucking word out of your mouth until I'm done speaking.  Got it? Good.

First of all, I love you.  More than I thought I could ever love anyone again.  Talk about a gift.  For years and years not only did I think that I would not, but more importantly, that I COULD not love anyone.  That I would never be willing to make the choice to love.  But then you came along and changed all that.  And I thought, holy fuck...how did that happen?  You broke down my walls, you took each brick down one by one and found me beneath the rubble.  You peeled back the layers, you exposed me.  And it felt so good.  And it felt so scary.  But I knew it was going to be ok.  That you'd never lead me anyplace that you knew wasn't safe for me.  And despite all this current bullshit, I still believe that.  I have to, because otherwise, I would've been wrong this whole time.  And I don't think I was, or am.

Secondly, I fell in love with you.  Just you.  Not the crap that surrounds your life, not the secrets that you keep, not the way you cook (though I love that too), not the d/s dynamic.  None of that made me fall in love with you.  What made me fall for you is you.  Nothing more, nothing less.  You are enough. 

None if this is going to change in letting you go.  I will still  love you.  I will still be in love with you.  But in the interest of the architecture of my heart, I have to let you go.  I can feel the bricks stacking themselves in defense.  I can hear the cold edge of my voice, distancing, pulling back.  Retreating.  But my love is still there.  It's just hiding in plain sight. All it will take is for you to look for it again. 

Finally, one day I hope that you really can trust me enough to tell me everything.  I don't need to know, but part of being in a relationship (whether that be a friendship or something more), is trusting the other person with the really bad shit.  Because that's where the real currency of our lives is.  It's in the trust that makes us feel safe with the other person.  Trust is what we exchange daily.  And I get it.  You don't or can't make that exchange.  I wish you could.  I wish I was the one that you could build your piggy bank of trust in.  The one that you could trust with all the fucking bullshit that is out there.  But I'm not.  And while that makes me sad, I also get it.

Am I hurting?  Yes.  Does it feel like someone took a shotgun and punched a hole through my gut?  Yes.  Did I hope for a really long time that it would not come to this?  Yes.  Am I sorry for any hurt that I have caused or am causing you?  Yes, beyond measure. 

I hope you can forgive me for letting you go.  I hope I can forgive myself.

all my love,
me

Easier for who?

Would you?

Should I?

Letting go...

The bricks...I can feel them...stacking themselves higher

Around my heart.

I don't want to

Let go.

Engagement

How do I engage?

We are not “anything.” There is “nothing going on here.” Don’t stop to

notice, there’s nothing to see. What? Him in the Kitchen?! Nope, nothing

there...just keep on moving. Those sparks you see...?...nothing but your

imagination. Just a figment.

But yet, there is everything. There is Hope. There is Joy. There is

Laughter. There will be Tears. There is Fear. There is Anticipation. There

is Past. There is the Present. There is Future, uncertain...but such is it’s

nature. And there is You & Me. Even in our “nothingness,” there is a We. It’s

unmistakable, unavoidable and undeniable.

So how do I engage?

You are hurting, but I can’t ease your pain. You need support and I cannot

offer it. You need to sleep and if I could I’d dream for you, but I can’t.

My inherent nature leads me to want to control this situation. To lead it to

a better place. To lead you (and those that you love) to an outcome that is

positive. I want to step in. To direct. To do. But I can’t. And for me,

that is frustrating beyond measure.

Again...engagement?

One of the definitions of “engagement” by Webster is “the state of being in

gear.” I like that. How to get “in gear” with you...such is the conundrum?

Two cogs, so close. Close enough in fact that we can touch, smell, breathe

on each other. But yet, we cannot get in gear. We cannot engage. Not yet.

Not fully. And it drives me mad.

Two cogs, working simultaneously side by side. Each moving at its own pace,

yet sensing the other’s pace, aching to join. Knowing that once the two cogs

are joined, the pace will quicken. There will be no slacking by either cog.

Each will be held accountable by the other.

That is how I hope to engage.

This shit is fucking personal.

How the hell am I supposed to just lay it all out here...where I’ve been,

what I’ve done, what I want to do...? I mean what the fuck?! Maybe I’m just

chicken shit. Maybe I’m way too guarded. Maybe I don’t trust anyone. But I

can tell you that I certainly don’t trust webspace.

But yet, here I am with a “barely there” profile, reading, listening,

watching everyone else. And maybe that’s not fair. Would you prefer

however, that I list how hurt and distrustful I became after a long

relationship that involved some small measure of D/s that ultimately ended

poorly? So poorly in fact that I have avoided any close relationships for

the past 7 years. Is that what you want to know? Do you want to know that

my relationship turned so sour that even now I think of myself as unwanted,

unattractive, unable to be loved...? I didn’t think so.

So what is left to write? Can I tell you my hopes, my dreams...? Eventually.

Can I tell you what I’d do with you if I got you alone? Again, eventually.

But I’d rather show you. What I can tell you is that I love, love, love to be

in a position of control. Any control. Bedroom, office, kitchen, driving,

you name it. I love it...most of the time. Like 75% of the time. The other

25% I just want someone else to make the decision. I don’t want to think

about it.

So what does that make me? A completely normal fucked up individual with

control issues who is fascinated with the D/s relationship and wants to

learn, explore and engage more. Yup. That’s me.

No.  I'm not mad at you.  Only myself.

Only myself for allowing this all to happen again.  For thinking, even for a flash of a moment, that I could be someone that you might actually want to be with.  Someone you had fallen for.  Someone that you love.

I let myself believe...what the fuck was I thinking?

So many years ago, I told myself that I would never let anyone hurt my like I had been hurt before.  It was too much...it almost crippled me.  I got through it...everyone always does...but I swore to myself that I would never let the walls down far enough to have someone tear my heart apart again.

But yet, here I am.  Crying into my keyboard on a Tuesday morning, feeling like my heart has been poked through with millions of tiny holes...slowly leaking out the pain and the love and the hope.

I know it's not fair.  That you really don't know just how deep this dagger runs.  You really don't know that right now I am feeling (again, despite my best efforts), like I am not enough.  Not enough.  Not enough.  Those are the words that run through my mind, on constant playback.  And that fucking sucks.

So even if you told me tomorrow, that you have "figured it all out," that you know what you really want, and that what you really want is me, I'm not sure I could give me to you, again.  The one thing that I wanted to give to you for so long, I now don't think I can.  And that's a shame.

So up go the walls, the barriers to my heart.  I'm sorry babe.  But I have to.

xo

So Many Years Ago

Years ago...like over a decade ago...I encountered someone who wanted me to "take charge."  In the bedroom. He wanted me to control, dominate, render him helpless. So I did.  And it worked...for a while...but not long enough...or well enough.

I was under the impression that I was all he would ever need or want. That I was his queen and he was my slave. In the bedroom, in the kitchen, anywhere. I thought we were on the same page. I thought we were building a life, and on the exterior we were. Internally was another story.

There were secrets, hidden, unspoken desires,

I need you to do me a favor...figure out exactly what you want me to be in your life.  And stop fucking around.

I know you're busy.  Guess what...?  So am I.  I know you were sick this past weekend, and that sucks.  But it is part of life, we all get sick sometimes. I'm sorry that it happened on a big, big weekend for you, definitely could've been better timing.

But I really need you to figure this shit out.  And then grow some fucking balls, be a man and tell me. 

I've been clear with what I want.  Repeatedly. 

Now it's your turn.